


Of Shackles and Bonds

by Prinzenhasserin



Category: Fingersmith - Sarah Waters
Genre: F/F, Masturbation, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:07:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21837211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prinzenhasserin/pseuds/Prinzenhasserin
Summary: Sue isn’t used to living in a country estate with everything she ever wished for in the grasp of her fingers. And yet, it feels like there is something missing still. Can she coax Maud to let her try some of the curiosities left behind?
Relationships: Maud Lilly/Susan Trinder
Comments: 3
Kudos: 44
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Of Shackles and Bonds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Assimbya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Assimbya/gifts).



The world outside was dreary, drab and grey in a way that Sue had never seen before. London had been drab and grey, she had always believed it to be so, but only now that winter had enveloped the house in Briar did she understand true drabness. The house was dark in the mornings and only got marginally brighter during midday where Sue still needed a candle to check the pantry. The evenings crept longer and longer, and the glass windows that she had admired so in spring and summer were alternately frosted over with ice or glazed with wetness. Sue longed for the streets of London in the abstract, for their bustling and well-lit streets, forgetting the mud and the frozen, slippery cobblestones. She missed the society more than anything else, missed knowing who she was, at what she would do.

Maud turned more silent as usual by the awful weather. She looked wan and sad, not helped by her staying in her writing chamber all day, seeking to use the scant daylight hours. Her silence was always beautiful but now there was a melancholy to her every expression that tugged at Sue’s heartstrings.

"It’s your home," she kept insisting when Sue asked her about the menu or how to reorganise the rooms. And whenever Sue asked her if she wanted to keep any of the various treasures—even the dresses and corsets—Maud grimaced, and tried to change the conversation. "If you want them, you can keep them," she said, in that tone that meant anything but.

And as much as Sue wanted to please Maud, wanted her to feel welcome in her own home, and wanted her to stop treating everything with kid gloves, she recognised that to Maud reconvening to this house, even without her old servants and Christopher Lilly and his endless barrage of particular friends, felt like returning to a prison, if only sometimes. 

Sue didn’t want to play the warden. She wasn’t going to persuade Maud into anything, when she had already agreed to live with her, when she already shared her kisses so generously, when she could only touch Sue gently and make her blush.

Maud was the one who actually contributed to their household budget, with her manuscripts and ruthless knowledge on how to leverage the most out of the little connections they kept. 

She’d been grumpy for a while now, sitting at her desk writing her manuscripts though lately Sue had heard more sighing and rummaging than the furious scratching of a feathered quill.

If Sue had to guess, there were only so many ways that one could describe two people getting it on, and everyone’s inspiration was going to run out somewhen, but of course, that’s not what she would tell Maud. She didn’t know anything about that sort of thing, both the writing and what might get other people off. She only really knew that everything Maud did to her made her blush and stutter, and feel really really good. She had to blush just thinking about what Maud had done to her last night — her insides were still tingling from the expert way Maud had used her tongue. And the way she had just— Sue clapped her hands on her face. It didn’t bear thinking about, she had shouted so loudly. Thank god they hadn’t employed new servants.

Sue left her alone, rummaging in the boxes and books the old man had left behind when he went the way of the world. It was a pity to leave it, Sue thought, especially since most of it could be used to bring pleasure as well as pain, and one day she just wanted Maud to cry as loudly from their bed as she made Sue.

Maud knew exactly how to play her strings, and sometimes Sue wished she could be the one to make Maud scream. It had been trained out of her from a young age, the screaming. And perhaps, Sue was thinking about this the wrong way, maybe Sue didn’t need to find the most outrageous thing to do to Maud, just something that she liked.

Sue wanted to try out everything anyway, so that lined up very well.

Beside his collection of literature, the old man had his collection of curiosities. Maud wanted to throw it away sight unseen, as much as she wanted to clear out the parlours and make them into bright cozy hide-aways. Sue was fine with redecorating but she balked at throwing away the expensive furnishings — and she was mightily curious about the functions of those curiosities, too. Whenever she asked Maud, however, she turned cold and could not be coaxed out of her shell with smiles and insipid stories about life in London.

Sue knew it was a touchy spot. She knew, and yet she could help poking at it, couldn’t help but want—

Well, what? What did she want? She flushed; thinking about Maud with that whiplike contraption in her hand, thought of Maud naked, or perhaps in that costume with the corset — leaving her privates entirely bare. She couldn’t ask that of her, could she. Maud would probably do it, feeling guilty about her role in deceiving Sue, even though Sue herself was a part of that very same scheme! —either way, Sue didn’t want to guilt Maud into anything, especially not intimate scenes. She could only think about how terrible it would feel if it was her.

And yet— the opportunity to seduce her was there. Sue was only a plump servant girl, even though it had turned out she wasn’t. Even so, she wasn’t as beautiful as Maud, as dainty, as careful. Her hands were rough, her hair as coarse as her accent and her feet plump and ugly. Her only good attribute was the money she first inherited from her mother, and then Christopher Lilly had had to ruin that, too. 

The only person she had ever trusted, had betrayed her completely, and while she was now dead, Sue still felt the regrets, the guilt, her naivety. She shook her head. The weather that was affecting Maud was making her the same kind of miserable.

Still no sound from Maud’s writing abode. If Maud kept to schedule, she would spend the next few hours pouring over her drafts—time enough to do some exploring. Sue spent a few more seconds hesitating—did she really dare?—before her curiosity got too big. She went for the cabinet with the most curious contraptions.

She had gone through most of the cupboards once already, too noisy to really let these things be, and too interested in discovering the sort of depravities Maud was more used to. There was one shelf with which she was particularly fascinated, containing both little mechanical twists not unlike clothespins— it had felt incredible good, the one time Maud had forgotten her fear of inflicting pain and twisted her nipple. The pain had jolted through her, mixing with her pleasure until one was indistinguishable from the other. Sue had been unprepared for the feeling, too overwhelmed to register what exactly she had experienced.

Maud had apologised. Sue had not had the fortitude to protest, and it had never happened again.

Maud thought she was made of sugar, Sue thought sometimes. Or maybe it was that Maud thought herself to be dirtied, to be embittered and jaded by her experiences. But Sue only had to kiss her fingers, gently curl Maud's hair around her ear, to know that she wasn't. Maud's blushes came sudden, and all the more deeper for it. She managed to keep her face to stone, even when the tips of her ears, the blots on her neck revealed her. Sue wanted to see it every day, and she loved the quiet, touching moments between them.

But she also wanted to experience that feeling again, and since Maud was reluctant to help her, she would have to do it herself. Even better, if she could somehow get Maud to finish it for her, since she wasn’t sure she could go through with it alone. It seemed like the thing that depended on two people for success.

She had prepared some oil, in case her own body wouldn’t cooperate with her, but it didn’t seem necessary. She was already tingly, and growing more excited at the thought of experimenting. There was still enough daylight to make everything out clearly, and large enough shadows to make her feel less exposed in the empty room.

Carefully, she took out one of the clamps.  **Her hands were icy, icy cold, and when she lifted them towards her nipples, she felt the touch jolting through her. Her cunt was growing wetter every minute.**

Was that what they meant with wild desire? Sue could only continue, there was no stopping herself now.

It would have been better with Maud watching, commenting, writing down her every move; but thoughts of her were brilliant, too, and that way Sue could hide how filthy her thoughts were, could keep her from realising she was just as bad as those men.

The first touch of the clamp to her nipple had her squeaking. Soon enough she got used to the rough feeling of the material on her skin, and tried the clamp again. This time, she could sort out her reactions better. It felt so good, though, and she couldn’t help her groan when she opened the clasp and the sensation pulsed through her body. It wasn’t as intense as stimulation directly against her cunt, or maybe it was—she had to try again.

It was a different sort of feeling, she was pretty sure, but it stimulated the same part of her mind. She unclasped the contraption again. Her nipple continued standing up, shivers running down her spine.

Unconsciously, she had made noise again. Only now, with a little break to breathe she became aware of her voice hitching up in little moans.

She stifled herself, letting the clasp fall on her belly, and petting her nipple to return some blood into the tip. It was nice, but she couldn’t help missing Maud.

Maud’s intense gaze, watching her, helping her along in her quest to reach orgasm—she almost called out for her, and then stopped herself at the last minute. Sue didn’t want to interrupt her writing process. 

Except she couldn’t stop thinking about Maud. Her hands, so sure and elegant. Her mouth, so soft and expressive. The ways she kept watching Sue’s every expression, as if she couldn’t help soaking up her every reaction. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine her following her every move.

The next groan she couldn’t quite cut off.

She didn’t know how to deal with these sensations. Perhaps it was good that Maud hadn’t tempted her into trying things beyond basic pleasures, because if Sue was already this far gone with her hands alone, she didn’t know how she could take Maud’s expert administrations. Her hand slipped between her folds. It had grown more sensitive still, but she had to take the edge off, she had to orgasm, or else she wouldn’t be able to take more of this teasing. Perhaps later, she could try going to the edge from her nipples alone.

She was already shaking around her finger, so close to the edge, almost over it—

"It would be a shame to finish without me," Maud’s voice said.

Sue let go. She couldn’t catch herself in time, cresting over the edge and shuddering around her fingers, the pleasure rushing through her body. Still shaking, she opened her eyes.

"I see you’ve discovered one of the chests of secrets," Maud said mildly.

"Yes," Sue panted. There was no way to hide her discoveries now, though she had considered surprising Maud later, when she had explored a bit more. Sue hated the role of the awkward ingenue so much—though it smarted less when it was Maud who played the gentle and kind master. Maud was as superior to anyone in that respect as in everything else. Sue considered pouting to help her case, when Maud bent over to touch her face. "You did very well for a beginner," Maud said and pressed her mouth against Sue’s lips. It was a very gentle kiss, small and kind. 

There was nothing degenerate about it at all, and yet it only made Sue wetter and more desperate. "Please," she said. "Don’t leave me here."

"You seem to have it well enough in hand," Maud said, considering. The twinkle in her eye belied her words. "Surely you just proved you don’t need me to finish."

"Please," Sue repeated, stretching her back and pushing her breasts further out, until Maud had to focus on her bruised and battered nipples. "It’s so much better with you." Everything was, really, and Sue wouldn’t have to go behind Maud’s back to discover the chests of explicit material if Maud was present at all times.

Maud reached down and then—yes!—helped Sue forget the gloominess of the day.


End file.
